


Warmth

by oldmythologies



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hades Keith, Hades/Persephone AU, M/M, Persephone Shiro, Touch-Starved, not quite fluff but its so soft, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 03:12:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15524790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmythologies/pseuds/oldmythologies
Summary: plu·me·ri·a /plo͞oˈmirēə/ noun1. rebirth, new beginnings, springtime// Written for the Hanakotoba Zine, collab with artists @SaintDri and @_khoo8 on twitter, plus art by @v_0_3 and @rou_tan_tan//





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Can you believe the UNGODLY amount of AMAZING ART for this fic??? Dri, khu, vi, and rou, I love you so much and your love for this fic keeps me ALIVE. I'm so glad it inspired you like you inspire me! Links at the end~

Keith was a lonely god, exiled from the high court in the stars to spend his days as lord of the underworld. The underworld was a lonely, cold place, devoid of the warmth he craved. His sadness left his home dark, and the souls he watched over shivered with him.

The High Gods did not speak to the lonely lord until they wanted something, and one day, they wanted something.

Their Champion, their holy ambassador to war, finally fell in battle, and the High Gods wanted their favorite toy back. Keith found himself staring down a broken soul in his throne room.

The Champion did not shiver and he did not shake. His soul glowed brighter than any Keith had seen before, and Keith saw them all. The piqued his curiosity, and instead of bowing to the will of the High Gods, Keith decided to speak to this Champion. His voice was weak, unfamiliar with the sound of his words spoken out loud.

“How did you die, Champion?” he asked.

“Shiro,” their Champion said, “my name is Shiro. Not Champion.”

Keith considered, rolling the name in his mind. A tool of the High Gods who did not enjoy being a tool. Keith could relate.

“Shiro,” he said, “do you want to go back to them?”

Shiro did not respond for a moment, ghostly eyes fixed on the stonework throne.

“No, I don’t. They took my first life from me, and I won’t let them take my second.”

A stolen life. Keith listened, and in the silence following, he thought. Keith decided that he would not allow the High Gods to steal anything more.

“Shiro,” he said again, loving the name on his tongue, “would you like to live?”

Shiro looked up and their eyes caught. Souls were incapable of crying, but Keith swore that he saw a tear shimmer down Shiro’s face. Shiro nodded and Keith allowed him to walk the long path back to life. Keith wondered when he would see Shiro again, hopeful for the moment that his bright soul would come back.

Life was not a perfect science, and when Shiro’s soul hit the mortal world, his body did not know how to hold it. The parts did not match anymore, for when he died, his arm was taken and his blood seeped into the roots of the tree he died under, but nature found a way to bring him life.

The plumeria tree shared with him, pouring her life back into Shiro. Shiro opened his eyes as her branches carried him, fused with his bone, and grew out from his flesh in the form of a new arm, bark growing in the place of skin and wood in the place of fingers. His fingertips were petals and his scars grew new leaves.

Shiro thanked the tree, and for the first time, out of the hands of the High Gods, he lived. He met people whom he was not forced to fight, he drank water from clear springs and lived the summer as he never had before.

When Autumn came, he grew tired with the tree that brought him back to life, and when her leaves fell, Shiro fell too.

Keith was surprised when Shiro showed up in his throne room once more, even brighter than before. He walked the halls of the palace, grass growing wherever he stepped, young flowers sprouting up wherever his fingers brushed.

That first Winter, Keith was careful not to touch any of the life his new friend brought, content to be in the presence of life for the first time in his long existence. Keith found himself hovering closer and closer to Shiro, absorbing every bit of warmth that he could.

When Spring came, and the plumeria tree bloomed once more, Shiro was pulled up to her and Keith was left with a flowering palace to watch over as he waited for Winter and light to come once more.

Every year, Shiro came back, and he and Keith grew closer. At first, it was to fight the mutual loneliness that came with being suck in the dark, and then it was more. Shiro told Keith about the rivers he saw, the people he met, about the adventures he went on and the changes he made in the mortal world. Keith hung on to every word, and eventually, Keith shared everything he could about the life of a lonely god. Shiro pulled the words from his mouth and Keith discovered that he had finally found a companion.

Every year, Keith was careful not to touch any of Shiro’s creations, terrified that the flowers would wilt under his cold touch, and he would be left without anything to remember Shiro by. Keith was careful not to touch Shiro.

Keith shuffled from foot to foot as he watched the sun set on the Autumn Equinox. Shiro would manifest in the throne room as he always did, and Keith would be waiting for him, as he always was. The longer Keith spent without Shiro nearby, the colder he got and the sadder his flowering palace became, plumeria wilting in their time away from Shiro.

Just as the sun dipped behind the horizon in the mortal world, warmth hit the dark stone of the underworld. Shiro appeared in a burst of golden light that washed over Keith, bringing a new glow to his dull skin. With Shiro, Keith remembered how to smile, and in that warmth, it was impossible not to.

Shiro stood in front of him, skin glowing and eyes shining. His joy was physical, concrete in the air, almost like he was happy to see Keith. He breathed in the clear air and the grass at his feet sprouted up with new growth. The castle came alive at his presence, tired blooms perking up to wave hello to their old friend.

Keith had to remind himself not to leap forward, to pull Shiro into his arms and never let go. He couldn’t let his hands of ice touch Shiro or his creations lest they shatter under his fingers.

“It’s good to have you back.” Keith said.

“It’s good to be back.” Shiro replied, and Keith could not deny that Shiro really was glad, not when the flowers around them all grew soft pink and orange, a sunrise of life in the middle of hell.

Keith gazed in wonder at the colors.

“They’re amazing,” he said, under his breath. He didn’t know he was speaking until the words escaped his lips, gaze locked on the flowers as they blinked into their joy.

Shiro coughed, the pink of his cheeks matching the color of the flowers. “They are,” he said.

The grass sprouted up from between Shiro’s toes, filling in the crack of the stonework and landing at Keith’s feet. Keith’s gaze traced the spread of green and warm tones, colors that he hadn’t been sure he’d ever get to experience.

With all the life blooming before him, Keith could no longer imagine a world without it.

One flower in particular beckoned him with a wave, pulling him to one knee as it brightened and uncurled. He blinked and the flower preened. His hand reached out, hovering over the delicate petals, before he pulled it back in a fist. He refused to hurt something so beautiful.

“You can pluck it. These flowers have a life of their own, and they smell very nice.”

Shiro joined Keith next to the flower. Keith felt the warmth radiating from Shiro, far from touch but a new sensation for the lonely lord. Shiro watched Keith with a smile as Keith scanned Shiro’s face, searching for an understanding that he couldn’t quite grasp.

“I can’t,” Keith said, returning to his flower, “I wouldn’t want to hurt it.”

Shiro chuckled, voice low. “They’re stronger than they look.”

Shiro’s wooden arm brushed the light petals and Keith wondered how it would feel. Like silk, or like paper? Like something Keith had never felt before? The colors brightened under Shiro’s touch. He left a trail of warmth wherever he went.

“I can’t,” Keith said, “there isn’t much alive that can withstand the touch of the god of death.” He refused to look at Shiro, even when he felt Shiro’s head snap towards him and his hand froze on the flower.

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Shiro asked, his words hanging on the precipice of something that Keith could not catch.

Keith nodded, eyes falling closed.

He listened for the sound of Shiro’s soft footsteps, fading into the young grass as he walked away, but was met with nothing. Just a continued warmth, breathing, and—

Something brushed Keith’s cheek and he jumped, letting out a very un-god-like yelp. His graceful kneel faltered as he jolted, catching himself in order to maintain some modicum of dignity.

Shiro smiled in front of him, face much closer than Keith was familiar with or expecting, wooden arm outstretched and hovering, warm over Keith’s pallid skin.

“What are you doing?!” he squeaked, eyes wide.

Shiro laughed again, low and annoying like always. “Touching you,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He moved to repeat the action and Keith dodged, unamused by the mirth in Shiro’s eyes.

“Stop it!” Keith all but shouted.

“Why should I?” Shiro came at Keith from the other side , with his flesh hand, and Keith jerked back. Something in Keith’s gaze must have stopped Shiro, because he froze, hand hovering just inches from Keith’s face. Shiro searched it for something and the smile turned contemplative.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, sitting back on his heels, giving Keith the space to think.

“Shiro, I am the god of death.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “And? I’m the Champion of the High Gods.”

“My touch could kill you.”

Shiro pulled his cheeks between his teeth in an inhale. Then he smiled again, laugh lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. “I don’t think so.”

He turned to the flower that had pulled them together and it winked as Shiro grabbed it. Its branches twisted into Shiro’s hand, a seamless merge between man and nature that let him hold life in his palms. The flower carried a soul of its own and just like before, it reached towards Keith.

“The flower wants to test it.”

Keith side eyed the offensive beast as Shiro brought it up to Keith. He closed his eyes, not ready to see his mere presence destroy something so beautiful.

Something brushed his cheek, and this time, Keith didn’t move.

It didn’t feel like silk, and it didn’t feel like paper.

It was smooth, but smooth in the way that rivers were on calm days, like movement that somehow remained still. This close, he could smell the light sweetness of plumeria, a smell that followed Shiro everywhere he went and reminded Keith of his smile. It was delicate, a thin layer of glass that held something precious, a sensation that belied the strength that Shiro promised. The flower radiated life.

Then, something else on his other cheek. Warm, like the sun breaking over the hills on a winter morning, a warmth that cut straight through to his bones and bit back against the chill. Without thinking, without trying, he turned into it, basking in the new yearning that reared up in his chest, a need to feel this warmth however he could.

The flower pulled away and Keith blinked back into the present, Shiro’s smile mere inches from his own, and his own skin flush with Shiro’s hand.

“I told you so,” Shiro whispered, eyes caught on Keith’s.

“You’re not dead.”

Shiro laughed into the space between them, warm breath on Keith’s lips. “I’m not.”

Shiro pulled back and Keith had to fight the urge to follow him. A flower was held up in front of Keith, the same one that pulled them together. “She’s fine too.”

The flower winked towards Keith again, and Shiro followed.

The bark of his hand caught on the first few strands of Keith’s hair as Shiro pushed the unruly bangs behind his ear.

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” Shiro said as he got Keith’s hair in order, “not around me.”

With a final caress, the flower found its home behind Keith’s ear.

“Beautiful.” 

Shiro spoke and Keith couldn’t help but move closer, not when he was right there and so bright, so warm, and unafraid.

Every Spring, when Summer starts pushing back against the claws of Winter, Shiro’s plumeria tree blooms again and Keith is left with a fragrant flower in his hands. Every Autumn, that flowers waves in excitement when Shiro comes back.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [Rou's Piece 1 (Mucha inspired)](https://twitter.com/rou_tan_tan/status/1024555168220688384)   
>  [Rou's Piece 2](https://twitter.com/rou_tan_tan/status/1024555297178714113)
> 
>  
> 
> ~other links will be added as artists post!~
> 
> You can find me:
> 
> twitter [@oldmythos](https://twitter.com/oldmythos)
> 
> tumblr [@oldmythos](http://oldmythos.tumblr.com)


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